


The Balcony

by Angie13



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 11:27:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9233162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angie13/pseuds/Angie13
Summary: Natasha and a moment of quiet thought.





	

Nat loved her little balcony. Barely wide enough to accommodate a rickety chair and a folding TV tray, it still managed to give her a feeling of property. It was Outdoor Space in the city. It was hers. She rarely showed any kind of possessive nature - it was, after all, the quickest way to get hurt - but there was something about her balcony that brought out all of those emotions she knew had no place in her organized life.

Or formerly organized life, she mused with a faint frown as she stood just inside the window and peered out at the never quiet, never dark city spread out below and stretching high above her modest apartment. The window cracked to let in the sounds of traffic. She half closed her eyes, listening to horns and traffic and the soft murmur of many voices raised as they conducted countless dozens of independent conversations. A damp breeze, heavy with the threat of more rain, teased through the opening along with the noise. Rain washed away the dirt and the upper layer of the more pungent scents but sometimes it left worse things behind as the hint of mold and mildew crept in with the wet. Her apartment was high enough, though, that she could avoid most of that.

It was one of the reasons she had chosen this building and this floor. That and the little balcony and the fact that the window would open all of the way and the fire escape was kept in good repair. So there were a few reasons, admittedly, but the balcony remained her favorite and the one she almost never offered to those who asked why.

With a soft sigh, she opened her eyes and reached out a hand to push at the window in front of her. It swung out soundlessly and without a single hitch in the movement; she kept it well oiled and tested it regularly. Part paranoia, part habit, part possession. The window was her gateway to her balcony. Bending and folding with a ballerina’s grace, she slipped through the opening to set foot on the sturdy metal grating. Then she reached back into the apartment, the coolly impersonal space where she sometimes slept, and retrieved the stemless wine glass from the small table near the window. The dark red liquid within shifted at the motion, rippling a bit, but stayed neatly contained. Then she settled herself into the rickety chair and looked out again over the city.

The city had a life of its own beyond its inhabitants. She knew it did. She had seen it grow and pulse and extinguish and everything in between as those who lived within its confines pretended to control it. She smiled to herself. Control was an illusion. She knew this better than anyone else, probably. Even better than those she called friends and comrades. Yet it was an illusion that everyone craved and clung to with every spark of their being and she was just as guilty of it. It kind of make her laugh.

She looked up at the night sky and watched the clouds drift lazily. The moon played hide and seek with the city below. The moisture in the air settled over her skin, her flaming red curls, and clung to the sides of her glass. Control was a nice dream, she thought. It was a nice game.

The way to win the game, of course, was to realize you never had control in the first place.

A teasing gust of wind blew the clouds harder, stars flickered defiantly, and she looked down at the glass of wine in her hand. She smiled to see the stars reflected in the depths. No control here, they seemed to say in their quiet twinkling, but only life and surprises and those are beautiful things. Touche, Mother Nature. Point taken.

Laughing lowly to herself, Natasha Romanoff raised her glass to salute the city and all of those who fought for and lost their control and, in doing so, created life.


End file.
